


Photographs

by Lenny9987



Series: Lenny's Imagine Claire and Jamie Prompts [16]
Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7535329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenny9987/pseuds/Lenny9987
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine if Bree had Rodger take a picture of her at the entrance of Lallybroch (the archway) for Claire to give to Jamie.  Now he has a better memory of that spot instead of being whipped there. He now has an image of his daughter seeing his home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Are ye sure ye dinna want to wait to do this with yer mother when she returns?” Roger asked as they continued along the road to Lallybroch.

They had reached that frustrating point in their research where they were forced to wait for new resources to arrive from the distant libraries that possessed them. Rather than give in to cabin fever, Brianna had grabbed the map with Lallybroch circled on it and pushed Roger’s keys into his hand.

“No, I want to see it myself. I don’t want to hear her stories about how it was, I want to see what it _is_ ,” Brianna struggled to explain to him. “And it’s… I don’t want to put her through seeing it like it is now if that might be… I don’t know. I just think it might be harder for her too.”

“All right,” Roger replied, pressing his foot to the gas with more enthusiasm.

They crested the hill and Brianna gasped. Roger pulled the car over so they could take a moment to see it from the distance. Even though it was clearly in disrepair, the sight of the large stone house and lilting tower were an impressive sight. With a quick glance over at the stricken Brianna, Roger pulled back onto the main road and continued along slowly, ready to turn back if at any moment she changed her mind and wanted to turn back, to wait for Claire.

He brought the car through the main archway into the desolate yard and switched off the ignition, waiting for Brianna to get out first.

She did so slowly, looking around every which way, unsure where to direct her attention first.

“It’s _huge_ ,” she finally exclaimed. “It’s kind of a mess right now… but I can see it—what it must’ve been.”

“Aye,” Roger agreed, closing the car door and taking a few steps towards the house, which appeared to have boards and chains barring entrance. “The stonework isna in terrible shape though the roof needs replacing. It’s likely no much to look at inside at the moment. But it’s a bonnie spot.”

“My _grandfather_ built this,” Brianna said in awe, walking up the steps and putting her hand to the stone wall. “My father was born here… _I_ should have been born here.”

“Ye dinna ken how to pick the lock, do ye?” Roger inquired as he ran his thumb over the padlock holding the chains in place.

Brianna pulled a bobby pin from her hair and made an attempt but it was clear to Roger that she wasn’t acting based on any real knowledge and though Brianna managed to elicit a few promising noises from the mechanism inside, the pin bent out of shape before the lock could yield.

“You don’t have bolt cutters or a hack saw in the back of the car, do you?” she countered but Roger just shook his head. “Didn’t think so.” She wandered back down the steps and started to follow the outer wall of the house, stopping at a window. It was several feet higher than she could see without some assistance. Glancing around the yard she found nothing to the purpose.

Roger could see what she was looking for and came over to crouch beside her weaving his fingers together into a foothold. “Grab the sill up there to balance yerself,” he advised, “and pray I can hold ye in place long enough for ye to take a peek.”

Bree grabbed hold of the windowsill above to help relieve Roger of bearing the entirety of her weight.

“It’s no use,” she told him as she shook him off and dropped to the ground unassisted. “The windows are too dirty to see anything and they won’t open from the outside. There’s no getting in without breaking the glass, which is where I draw the line.” She brushed her hands off on her pants with more attention than was necessary, keeping her eyes down while doing it.

“We can still walk the grounds, if ye like,” Roger offered.

“A bit,” Brianna agreed a little reluctantly. She knew it was unlikely they’d be able to find the dunbonnet’s cave on their own; while it intrigued her she didn’t know if she was ready to see the place where Jamie Fraser had spent most of what would have been her early childhood. It was still surreal to think that she might have been raised so differently. Seeing her mother’s enthusiasm as they traced Jamie’s path through history, she tried to picture what that childhood might have looked like—a very different kind of schooling, no bicycle riding, no paved streets or sidewalks to decorate with chalk. What’s more, she couldn’t help but absorb Frank’s explorations of the devastation that rained down on the Highlands following the ‘45’s failure. She couldn’t help but be grateful to Jamie Fraser for urging her mother back through the stones so that she could have a proper childhood—a childhood free of want and worry.

They were quiet as they meandered through the large yard and deeper into the overgrown grounds. Roger stopped suddenly, his mouth hanging open as though he wanted to say something but he remained speechless. Brianna noticed the distinct tops of gravestones peeking over a low, stone wall at the top of an incline.

“Uh… do ye…” Roger began awkwardly.

“No,” Brianna said with surprising force before turning around and heading back the way they had come. She was afraid of what she might find up there. It was a long way from where they had found Jamie’s grave but if her mother planned to go back—to try to find him in the past… And aside from what she feared to find, she didn’t really _know_ the others she might find up there anyway. Her grandmother and grandfather were buried up there but even her mother had never met them; if there were others up there her mother _had_ known, did Brianna really want to know when they would die? She shook her head against the grim thoughts.

Stomping back into the yard, Brianna wondered why it was she had been so adamant about coming to Lallybroch. She wanted to see it, yes, but it wasn’t giving her the answers she had expected… of course, she wasn’t really aware she had been looking for it to give her _anything_.

She strolled to the main gate and looked up the road. It disappeared from sight as it wound its way through the trees and up out of the valley but the slight depression where it cut through the landscape was still visible. It left the view unmarred and after a few minutes with her eyes closed she could just about believe that she was staring into the past when she opened them again.

Brianna leaned against the stone of the entryway imagining what it must have been like for her mother that first time Jamie had brought her here to Lallybroch. She had said that it was right after Jamie had taken her to Craigh na Dun, right after she had _chosen_ to stay with him and make a life with him. So he’d brought her home; this was where they had lived for almost a full year after their failed political maneuvering in France; this was where they had wanted to live out their days.

The sun was sinking, casting long shadows of the stone arch and Brianna herself across the yard, reaching for something—reaching for what might have been, perhaps?

There was a clicking noise from behind her, breaking the quiet spell.

Roger had retrieved his camera from the car and seized his opportunity.

“I couldna resist the way the light was hitting ye,” he confessed sheepishly. “I should ha’ asked—”

“It’s okay,” Brianna said with a smile. The confusion of not knowing what she was looking for had faded as she looked out over the grounds of the property and the road leading up to it. Something about the permanence of it resonated with her. She didn’t want to call it belonging—she was still too unsettled by the sensation. But the beauty of the place—even in its run-down state—was undeniable. She _wanted_ to feel like she belonged there… but maybe it was off because it wasn’t the right time… If her mother did succeed in going back, in finding Jamie Fraser, would she, Brianna still feel like she belonged in the twentieth century? Alone?

“Would ye like me to take one wi’ ye looking to the camera?” Roger offered. “Give ye a chance to prepare yerself?”

He was walking the line between genuinely asking—afraid that he’d upset her, maybe—and teasing her. Brianna’s smile grew and heat rose in her cheeks. Maybe she had more than her mother grounding her in the twentieth century.

She shifted so that she faced the camera more directly and tried not to have her posture appear too posed. Roger took another shot.

“I don’t think ye can leave until ye’ve visited the broch that gives the estate its name,” Roger informed her with a nod towards the slightly crooked tower in the distance. “It’s unlikely we’ll be able to get a peak inside, but we can try the door. Ye should have a grand view of the house from there as well,” he added.

“Bring your camera,” Brianna urged him as she set off for the tower, a greater sense of peace settling on her with each step.

* * *

They traced Jamie to 1766 just a few days later and let Claire know. It wasn’t much longer before she arrived in Scotland again and Brianna could tell that Claire had made her decision and though Brianna had told herself all along that she _knew_ it was the only decision her mother _could_ make, the thought of losing her stung.

But there were more preparations Claire needed to make before she left, which gave Brianna more time with her mother. Roger brought his camera out again and snapped enough photos of the three of them to fill an entire album.

While Roger was changing out the roll of film in his camera, Claire retrieved a cardboard shoebox from among the things she’d brought with her from Boston.

“I wanted to bring some photos with me—or at least try,” Claire explained. “I don’t know if they’ll survive the journey but if there’s a chance… I want to be able to show him how you grew up… but I can’t decide which ones to bring. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind helping me choose.”

Brianna’s throat was too tight to allow her to speak so she simply nodded and pulled a chair closer to her mother who rested the box on her knees and began by pulling out a small stack from the front of the box—Brianna’s baby pictures.

“Ye were a round, wee thing,” Roger commented, reaching over and taking hold of a few embarrassing shots Brianna had quickly relegated to the “no” pile. They showed her in various states of undignified undress—in her bathtub with a washcloth dangling from her mouth, on her training toilet, wearing only a diaper and bent over so that she looked like she might fall on her head as she peeked through her legs… She snatched at the pictures and managed to get all but one away from a laughing Roger.

Claire pressed her lips together in a smile as she tucked away one of Brianna asleep in just her jumpsuit, her arms folded over her chest and her legs straight out—it was exactly the way Jamie used to sleep… and perhaps still did.

Brianna chose to include a photo of herself with her beloved childhood dog. “You said he had dogs at Lallybroch, right?” she said as she slipped the photo into the pile of possibilities—it was already too large and would need to be further narrowed down.

“There were several of them,” Claire nodded. “Oh, no, don’t put that one in.” Claire pulled out a photo of Brianna in her school uniform standing in front of the mantel in the house in Boston. She held a certificate for perfect attendance and her two front teeth were missing from the proud grin she wore.

Brianna frowned at it a moment, unsure why her mother would object to the humiliating image until she noted the mirror above the mantel behind her. Claire’s reflection was clearly visible and just next to it vaguely obscured by the burst of light she could just make out a bit of Frank’s face. She hadn’t realized she’d been avoiding the photos with Frank in them—easily done since he was behind the camera in most cases. She set the photo aside and purposely sought one that had her with both Frank and Claire from when Claire finished medical school.

“Do you think you should include some of yourself?” Brianna suggested. “Don’t you think he’ll want to see what _you_ did this whole time too?” She pulled out another of Claire alone with her diploma and offered it to Claire.

Her mother took the picture and smiled briefly before setting it aside. “I’ll be able to tell him on my own. But you…”

She didn’t have to finish the thought—he would never see Brianna except in the photographs.

The photo of Brianna with Claire and Frank was still in her lap. _She_ would never have a picture of Jamie—of herself with Jamie… Unless she counted the ones Roger had taken of her at Lallybroch. He had taken the film in to be developed; those pictures would be ready in just a few days,  _before_ Claire left. Brianna decided she'd make sure to slip one of the pictures from that day into her mother's collection—she'd have to be sure to find one that didn't show too much of the dilapidated state the house was in; maybe one of the ones of her leaning against the broch or her in the stone gateway...

She would never know what he looked like beyond what she was able to see of him in her own reflection. Frank was gone but she would always have those images of him as reminders along with his books and other trinkets he’d left behind—a straight-edge razor, his favorite hat, the embossed briefcase he’d carried to and from the university every day. She had nothing of Jamie Fraser except the stories her mother had told her and a collection of historical records that didn’t even get his name right half the time.

Brianna realized she wanted him to know her. She wanted him to know how much he had given her when he sent her mother back through those standing stones. She turned to the piles of photographs with renewed purpose. If a picture was worth a thousand words, she would have to make sure each one counted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I've always thought that Bree, Roger and Claire should've devised some photographic equipment and taken pictures before they (Bree/Roger) left to go back to the future - would love to see a story of them doing this and then maybe Bree showing Joe (who I always felt was Claire's BFF) a picture of Jamie/Claire so he can see how happy Claire is...

Brianna looked at her supplies laid out on her bed and tried to prioritize everything. She needed to carry anything she brought through the stones with her so it would be a good idea to get rid of some of the things before her. The problem was that she kept thinking of _new_ things to add to the pile instead of actually removing anything.

The pearls were going with her no matter what. She set them aside in a new pile—the “definitely going” pile. Then she went through her first-aid kit and pared it down to the absolute essentials (including a bottle’s worth of aspirin stored in a wax-paper packet, which she figured would be less obviously out of time) before adding it to the “definitely going” pile as well.

Slowly she pared everything down and then tried packing the sackcloth bag she planned to use.

She accomplished her task a little too well—there was room in her pack to spare.

She turned back to the discard pile; she could bring _one_ more thing.

It shouldn’t be anything too conspicuous or too heavy… It should be something to remind her of home while she was away, after all, she wasn’t going to be in the eighteenth century for _that_ long.

It struck her that while she was excited by the prospect of seeing her mother again—an opportunity she hadn’t thought they would ever have—this time would undoubtedly be the last time she would see her mother, in addition to being the first and only time she would see Jamie… her father.

Her eyes drifted to the new Polaroid instant camera on her dresser—it hadn’t even been among her initial pile of possibilities but now she wanted to bring something that would allow her to capture, preserve, and bring the past back with her when she did return to her own time.

It was too conspicuous and if it failed while she was there she would have no means of repairing it. What would people think if they caught her using it? Her mother had mentioned in great detail the trial she’d endured at Cranesmuir. The thought of the possible consequences made Brianna shudder. It had been chance as much as anything that saved her mother and there was no guarantee that she might be as lucky under similar circumstances.

But to have a picture of her parents together—of herself with them…

She could always paint them… assuming paints, canvas, and the other necessary supplies could be found… and doing a self-portrait of that kind… but again, she would have to carry anything she wanted to bring back with her and a painted canvas—even in its most portable form—was awkward at best. However if she was _very_ careful…

She wrapped it in amongst the bandages in the bottom of the pack and prayed the stones would let it through unharmed.

* * *

Passing through the stones was horrible—Brianna couldn’t fathom how her mother had convinced herself to do it more than once, even if it was for her sake. She pushed the thought of her own return trip from her mind.

She managed to locate the abandoned cabin and recovered there finding comfort in the simple task of checking her pack. Everything appeared to have survived the journey intact—a bit rattled, but intact and functioning. She glanced around to be sure she was truly alone before examining the camera. She wouldn’t have to worry about the film being exposed and ruined thanks to its automatic development process, but she would still need to be sparing as far as the photos themselves were concerned—she only had twenty. She didn’t think it would be too difficult to conserve them… until she got going on the road headed toward Lallybroch.

Everything was clear, vibrant, untainted. There were no roads breaking up the rolling hills, nothing artificial or conspicuous marring the landscape. The air was cleaner; the stars overhead at night—were there actually that many of them? She only remembered seeing a fraction of that number in Boston. One night she was pretty sure she saw the aurora borealis and her fingers itched for the feel of the plastic and metal of the camera. It was only the knowledge that nothing would do the sight justice—let alone those tiny prepared squares—that kept her from wasting one just to see how it would come out; she would have to try to recall the sight unaided when she got somewhere with paints again.

Her will power failed when she crested the last hill and saw Lallybroch sprawled out in the valley before her. The sight took her breath away. It was at once familiar to her and nothing like her memory of it from her trip with Roger. Nothing was broken or run-down; the yard wasn’t overgrown and beyond the house and central buildings she could see the fields with small specks that must be the people of the house tending the crops; the tower lilted but the angle wasn’t as sharp. Smoke rose from the chimneys and she had the sudden urge to run down the road fast enough for her hair to fly out behind her.

But instead she turned in a circle slowly squinting out in every direction to be sure there was no one about to disturb her. She strained her ears as well but all she heard were distant birds and the whistle of the wind. Then she opened her pack and rummaged about until she located the camera and the cardboard boxes of film.

She removed one from the box and carefully loaded the camera, glancing up at the prospect below her to decide what would be the best angle, the best way to frame the photo; she looked to the sky, which was miraculously cloudless, the sun shining down and illuminating the area beautifully.

There was a chance that it wouldn’t work. Even though the camera had survived the trip in one piece, something might still have happened to its inner workings. She might press the button only to have nothing happen. But she wasn’t about to waste one of her precious photos on a test shot.

It must have taken five minutes of peering through the viewfinder and subtly adjusting her position so she could get as much of Lallybroch and the countryside in the frame as possible before she finally worked up the courage to press the button.

The sound of the shutter was startlingly loud and Brianna was convinced she could hear each individual gear of the camera’s innards turning and grinding against each other before the photo rolled out the front of the device. She quickly began rewrapping the camera and shoving it back to the bottom of her pack while she shook the photo and waited for the image to appear.

Gradually it began to show itself, ghostly shadows at first that soon delineated themselves from one another, color blossoming and adding depth. There was a small imperfection in the upper corner of the photo—a chemical reaction that hadn’t gone completely according to plan beneath the photo’s filmy surface—but it was well concealed amongst the trees at the edge of one of the fields.

She held it up in front of her so that she could glance back and forth between the photograph and the real thing. The colors weren’t quite as bright as the reality but it was beautiful nonetheless. The thought of showing Roger what Lallybroch was _supposed_ to look like shot pride and warmth through her veins.

But before she could show it to Roger, she had a few more people to see who would appreciate the image contained on that small square. Tucking it carefully away in not one but two plastic baggies that were then concealed in the lining of her coat, Brianna shouldered her pack once more and continued along the road, descending into the valley.

* * *

They weren’t there. Her parents had sailed in pursuit of her kidnapped cousin Ian and found themselves in the American colonies where they were currently living in the Carolinas.

Brianna lay in bed curled on her side with her back toward the door. She felt like weeping at the setback. She knew from the newspaper clipping about the fire that they somehow ended up in North Carolina but she had hoped that she was traveling through early enough that they wouldn’t have left Scotland yet—a naïve presumption, she realized now.

On top of that, she had been confronted by that horrible woman. That her newfound family—she still found it difficult to conceive of just how many of them there were—had stepped up for her, defended her, welcomed her so warmly… It was all overwhelming and exhausting.

From beneath her pillow she pulled out the plastic baggies with the photo of Lallybroch taken earlier that day. She couldn’t see it properly in the dark—though the moonlight and starlight were surprisingly bright, even indoors—but some of the sense of triumph she’d felt in taking it returned to her as though the photo itself was imbued with it.

If they were living in North Carolina and had been for a few years now, her parents would be even more thrilled to see the image she now held. Maybe she could find a way to sneak a second photo like it before she left Lallybroch for good so she could leave one with them as well.

She frowned. Uncle Ian and Aunt Jenny had already decreed that Young Jamie was going to accompany her on her journey to Inverness to help secure her passage to the American Colonies. Given how attentive everyone had been since her arrival, she doubted she’d be able to find a way to get off on her own long enough to be able to take a second photo like the first.

It would be a few days, though, before she left. In conversation with Aunt Jenny her grandmother’s artistic skills had come up and Aunt Jenny had offered to let her go through whatever supplies might be left. Perhaps she could do some sketches of the house—something she could expand upon later.

That would also preserve her nineteen remaining photos for other subjects. She tucked the protected photo back under the pillow, taking comfort in the companionable anachronistic sound of the plastic rustling. It had been only a few days and already she was hoarding her precious photographs like they were hard earned treasure.


	3. Chapter 3

Brianna waited until Ian had gone to the barn to sleep and only her parents were in the cabin with her. They were sitting quietly by the fire chatting quietly and giving her space to settle in for the night.

The fire cast them in a warm glow with their heads leaning against one another, their arms loosely around one another. In the darker shadows it was impossible to distinguish Claire's loose curls from Jamie's normally fiery mane.

It was such a quiet moment that Brianna hated to disturb them but the impulse to capture it was too great. She hadn't dared pull the camera out since she'd put it away at Lallybroch so she took a few minutes to check it over and be sure the long roiling sea voyage and rough journey over land hadn't damaged it at all. She hadn't even removed it when she'd encountered Roger though she desperately longed for a picture of him in his eighteenth century garb (and he likely felt the same about her). Of course, the surest way to tell was to go ahead and try it.

Her mother's head had slipped down onto her father's shoulder and her eyes had drifted closed––not into sleep, but from contentment Jamie pressed his lips into her hair and a happy smile illuminated her mother's face.

The shock of the flash was even more disruptive than Brianna had anticipated.

Jamie leapt to his feet and darted to examine the fire, certain that must have been the source of the bright light. 

"Sorry," Brianna apologized as she took the photograph the camera spat out and began to shake it.

"What in heaven's name..." Claire trailed as she got to her feet and moved to see what Brianna held. "Oh Bree... Tell me you didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Jamie asked, still confused as to what had happened.

"She brought a camera with her," Claire explained. "You remember those pictures I brought with me? A camera is the machine that produces them. Bree... of  _all_ the things you could have done, you had to bring a camera. Do you know what might happen if you lose it? If someone of this time were to find it? That technology in the wrong hands could change the course of history."

"I've been careful," Brianna insisted. "I've only used it once so far and I made sure no one was around to see."

"And you're... just going to bring it with you... when you go back..." Claire hesitated over the words. It was the first any of them had made reference to the fact of Brianna's return through the stones.

"Maybe not all of them," Brianna said quietly. She peeked at the photo in her hand. The shadows from the fire clashed with the light of the camera's flash and distorted the colors a bit but the intimacy of the moment shone clearly. Brianna handed it over to her startled mother.

"You mean... you don't have to wait to have the film developed?" she asked. Looking at the image of her and her husband brought tears to Claire's eyes. She'd had plenty of photos of her and Frank at various points in their marriage but all the images she'd had––or ever hoped to have––of Jamie had been her memories and the echoes of him in Brianna's face; she had never before had an image of herself  _with_ Jamie.

"You've been gone a while," Brianna murmured. "Lots of things have happened back home since you left."

"Christ," Jamie muttered when Claire passed the photo to him to see. "I dinna think I've ever seen what I look like so clearly."

"I saw your portrait at Lallybroch," Brianna told him. "You with your brother. Auntie Jenny showed me. And Uncle Ian took me to see your cave. I wanted to take a picture of that to show Roger but couldn't find a way to go back on my own to get the shot. I  _did_ get one of Lallybroch from the hill looking down into the valley." She turned back to her pack and began rifling through her things in search of it.

"And what of yer young man?" Jamie asked awkwardly. "Do ye have on of these with the two of ye?"

"No," Brianna said with disappointment. "There wasn't anywhere safe to take one when I saw him and I didn't bring any with me from home. But maybe Mama can take one when he gets here. Oh!" she exclaimed having found the carefully wrapped photograph of Lallybroch for Jamie's inspection.

She wasn't sure how the sound he made ought to be categorized but from the expression on his face she thought it was one of appreciation.

"It's a beautiful place," she commented looking at the image over his shoulder. "Even this doesn't do it real justice."

"No," he agreed, "but it comes close. What I would ha' given to show it to ye myself."

"It's still there," she told him. "In my time, I mean. Just about all of it. But, Mama will have told you that." She flushed remembering the picture Roger had taken of herself standing in the gateway that she had slipped into the packet of photos her mother had packed.

"Will ye be able to leave us wi' a photo of the three of us as well––when ye go, that is. I'm afraid the ones yer mam brought wi' her were lost on our way from Scotland," Jamie requested bashfully. "Dinna need one just now," he added reaching up and running a finger along her jaw. 

"I have plenty left," Brianna assured him with a smile. "I'd love to take pictures of a few things around here––so long as I can manage without Ian noticing. I'd love to be able to show Joe what you're up to, Mama."

"You've stayed in touch with him, then?" Claire asked eagerly.

Brianna nodded. "He misses having you around the hospital but he wants you to be happy. He won't have to worry about that once he sees this," she said, taking back the image of Claire and Jamie, now fully developed. She wrapped it carefully with the photo of Lallybroch and put them away with the camera safely in the bottom of her bag.

"I'll find things to keep Ian busy when ye need it," Jamie promised with a sly grin. "Though, he does tend to think yer mam's a fairy. He might no be as shocked to see ye wi' something like that as ye would expect."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick bit of warning that there is hunting in this chapter and so a little bit of animal related gore.

Claire had convinced Ian to stay behind with her while Jamie took Brianna hunting so Brianna discreetly stashed the camera into her pack for the day, determined to get a shot of the Ridge.

Talking with Jamie still proved awkward without Claire around to poke and prod them both in the right direction. Being the one point of reference they shared, most of their conversation featured their experiences of her and subtly comparing notes. And when their conversation began to lag they had the excuse that it had likely been scaring off the game and slipped into a less-awkward-than-before silence.

When the doe first entered the clearing, Brianna looked to Jamie eager to watch how he approached the shot. Instead he raised his eyebrows at her in inquiry, offering the shot to her. She felt herself flushing but shook her head then nodded to him to go ahead.

As he raised the rifle and peered down the long muzzle, Brianna continued to watch him rather than his target, her heart pounding in anticipation of the blast. The amount of smoke surprised her even as her ears rang with the sound of it. When the smoke cleared she saw Jamie grinning in triumph, his eyes still on the felled doe.

She followed him to the fresh carcass and listened as he first said a prayer in Gaelic, explained it to her, and promised to teach it to her. His shot had struck the doe in the head, a killing shot that thankfully had left little mess to make Brianna queasy. She'd been shooting with Frank before and had gone hunting with him once but it had been someone else's job to deal with the carcass they had made.

Jamie made quick and practiced work of slitting the animal's throat but, already dead, the blood didn't spurt but rather trickled weakly out; it would difficult to get it more properly drained. Then he moved fast across the doe's belly, removing the entrails and heaving the heavy, bloody mass into the underbrush before standing again and wiping his brow, gauging the animal’s size and weight then looking over his shoulder at the path they’d be following back to the cabin.

“Can ye carry this for me, _a nighean_?” he asked, holding out his rifle.

She took it, her eyes widening. “You’re gonna carry that all the way back to the cabin?”

He grinned up at her. “Butchering her the rest of the way here would take too long and the smell will soon draw animals right to us; those willna keep them busy for long," he nodded to the cooling pile of entrails. "Finish butchering her there and we get more meat on the whole. Have a useful skin off her too.”

He removed his coat and held that out for her to take as well before easily hoisting the doe's mostly-hollow carcass onto his shoulders. She was already beginning to cool so the mess made carrying her back shouldn't be too bad.

“D’ye remember the way back enough to lead?” he asked.

“I think I can follow our trail,” she asserted as she balanced the weight of her own burdens for the trek.

Their conversation through the woods was sporadic since so much of Jamie’s breath and energy was necessary for keeping himself moving forward. He only asked to pause and rest twice, eager to get home and have Ian’s help butchering before resting for the night.

Brianna asked for a third break as they came down through the woods and the clearing opened below them. The light from the sun––just beginning its descent in the sky––was striking the yard and the cabin, bathing it in a warm golden light. There was a thin trail of smoke rising from the chimney and she could see Ian playing with Rollo out in the yard.

She set the guns, Jamie's coat, and her pack down moving quickly to pull the camera free. Jamie chuckled behind her as she tried to find the best spot that included the fewest obstructive branches; she frowned, wishing she had some sort of zoom lens to get closer but then shrugged to herself before pressing the button deciding the shot was more impressive with the larger wilderness surrounding the cabin.

“Ye looked like yer mam just then,” he remarked with mirth and pride as she shook the small square the camera had spat out. She was crouched near her pack rearranging it all to fit the camera back inside. “I’ve seen that look on her face a thousand times as she watches one of her patients before decidin’ just what to do to ‘em. She sometimes mutters to herself too,” he observed. He smiled down at the cabin as though he could see her acting that way right then.

Brianna tucked the developing photo between two fingers so she could quickly raise the camera to capture that image of her father surveying the home he’d built for his family, the small corner of the wild mountain he’d tamed. There were a few smears of the doe's blood on his neck and speckling his shirt across the shoulders. His hands where they gripped the doe's legs remained stained dark from the same.

But she wasn’t fast enough and the movement of raising the camera drew his attention so that the camera clicked as Jamie stared into it.

He blinked at her as she lowered the camera again and began shaking the second photograph along with the first.

“Ye oughtn’t to have done that,” he told her, his face growing red. “Ye dinna have enough to be wastin’ them so.”

Brianna set the photos gently on the ground while she packed the camera away again––she should be able to slip it from her hunting pack in with her other things again while Ian was busy with Jamie butchering the doe. She couldn’t wait to find a few moments to be able to show the photos to her mother.

“It’s not a waste,” she insisted as she rose to her feet again and showed the images to him as they continued to settle. The lighting was darker in the photo of Jamie, his hair appearing dark and shadowed as though it were wet but the intense blue of his clear eyes was striking in his sun-darkened face. “I still have plenty of these left and not too many subjects at my disposal.”

He raised an unconvinced eyebrow at her as he resettled the doe on his shoulders.

“It could have been worse,” Brianna pressed as she tucked the photos into one of her coat pockets and hefted the pack onto her shoulder before bending to retrieve the discarded guns. “At least you don’t have blood on your coat.” She tossed his coat over her shoulder where it caught between her neck and the muzzle of one of the guns.

“It will save yer mother the trouble of washing it though she’s developed quite the methods for takin’ out blood stains––and verra little of the need for such tricks arisin’ from myself, may I add,” Jamie mused, his mood lightening with the prospect of home, roasted venison, and a bed warmed by his wife on the horizon. "My shirt's another matter. She may decide I need a new one anyhow."


	5. Chapter 5

“I can’t believe you brought it with you,” Claire said in a scolding voice as she finished securing the baby’s fresh clout. He wriggled with the lack of coordination characteristic of newborns and whimpered. His skin, so red at birth, was beginning to fade except on his scalp. Claire smiled as she gently smoothed the ruddy wisps of hair down on his head. His eyes squinted tighter shut before he succeeded in opening them a crack; his pupils shrank slowly in the light revealing irises of the same brilliant blue hue as his mother and grandfather.

“What would you have had me do? Leave it behind at the cabin so just anybody could find it?” Brianna snapped back. She was still exhausted and sore after the long hours of labor, her nerves and patience worn thin having only managed to secure about two hours of sleep before the newborn’s hungry wails roused her.

“No one would ha’ gone through the cabin,” Jamie assured Brianna in a soothing voice as he crossed to take the baby from Claire. “And it doesna matter that she brought the contraption wi’ her,” he continued, addressing Claire. “It willna hurt to use it and put it right back.” His hands dwarfed the small body of his grandson. The stiff fingers of his right hand adjusted the blanket swaddled around him before running his finger lightly over the baby’s cheek. The eyes blinked in response and his mouth opened to emit a low gurgling sound.

“And if someone were to walk in?” Claire asked, still skeptical but softening.

“Block the door,” Brianna said flatly, trying to ease herself up into a sitting position and wincing at the tenderness through her belly and lower body.

Claire frowned but when she looked to Jamie he glanced from her to a chair and then to the door. It was two against one.

“Fine,” Claire caved, moving to retrieve the chair and brace it under the doorknob. She double checked the way the door opened to be sure she set it up correctly.

Jamie had moved to the bed aiming to settle the baby in Brianna’s arms. Claire sighed and crossed to the trunk where Brianna had arranged her things soon after arriving at River Run several months before.

“It’s not in there,” Brianna explained. “I told you; I was careful.”

“Well then, where is it?” Claire said, exasperated and fighting to keep her voice down. Jamie frowned at her. Brianna wasn’t the only one overtired and frayed from the strain of a long labor and delivery.

“There’s a drawer on the desk in the corner that locks,” Brianna told her mother. “I asked Aunt Jocasta if I could have the key to it so I could put away some valuables. Be careful opening it; I might have rigged it with a little something in case anyone tried fiddling with it. The key should be in the pocket I sewed into the lining of my skirt.”

Claire retrieved the key but hesitated when it came to opening the drawer.

“Is something going to come flying out at me?”

Brianna smiled from the bed, shifting her arm so that the baby was sitting more than lying down. “Maybe. Just… keep to one side and try not to scream.” She turned to address the babe in her arms. “We don’t want Grannie bringing everyone in the house down on us, do we?”

“Do ye want help wi’ that, Sassenach?” Jamie asked in a similarly teasing tone.

Glaring at him, Claire kept her body to the side and reached out to turn the key in the lock and brace herself as she pulled the drawer open.

She didn’t quite see what it was that came flying out but the noise she made––somewhere between a gasp and a squeal––set Jamie and Brianna both laughing louder. The baby sympathized with his grandmother and drew his legs up as he prepared to drown them all out with a dissatisfied cry.

“Oh, shush, shush, shush,” Brianna began to croon and rock the baby. There was a note of fear and begging as she tried to calm him. “Please don’t cry like that unless you’re hungry.”

Claire pulled the camera out of the drawer, holding her tongue as Jamie bent over Brianna and the baby trying to help her calm him. She examined the camera. It was quite different from the devices she had used years before but it did seem pretty simple. She held it up to look through the viewfinder and searched for the best way to frame the new mother and child in the bed.

Jamie was pulling a face at the baby and making an odd warbling noise, trying to distract him. The baby was unaffected but he had Brianna laughing and the shaking of her laughter worked to calm the red-faced bairn.

Claire tried pushing the button on the camera but nothing happened. She looked at the camera to be sure she had the right one, raised the camera, and tried again. But still, nothing happened.

“Uh… Bree… It doesn’t seem to be working,” Claire said apologetically as she approached the bed.

Brianna frowned and resettled her legs so that she could lay the baby down in the gully between her thighs then reached for the camera. She turned it over in her hands examining it and appeared to be disassembling it only for Claire to hear a click and a satisfied, “Aha,” from Brianna.

Raising the camera and directing it at the babe in her lap, she pushed the button and the camera flashed. The baby started, arms jerking and his eyes wide; but he didn’t cry. The three adults breathed a sigh of relief. Brianna handed the camera back to Claire holding on to the developing photograph the machine had spat out. She flapped it back and forth a little like a fan.

“One of the batteries wasn’t making proper contact with––”

“Battery?” Jamie interrupted.

“Nevermind. It’s working again,” Brianna said turning her attention to the image of her son taking shape. She turned it around and held it out for the babe to see. “It’s you,” she told him though Claire could see that the new eyes failed to focus on the object which was too far from his face. “Aren’t you a handsome lad,” she crooned before handing the photo over to Jamie and picking the baby back up.

“Remarkable,” Jamie muttered quietly as he looked from the image in his hand to the child resting against his mother’s shoulder.

“I want you and Mama in the next one,” Brianna said patting the baby’s back. “All four of us.”

“But do ye no need someone to work the machine there?” Jamie asked setting the photo down on a nearby shelf. “Or do ye hold it out from ye and aim it at yerself and just hope it lines up the way ye want it?”

Brianna smiled and reached for the camera with her free hand, urging her mother to turn it around and then pointing at various buttons. “This right here is the delay button. If you push it you have about thirty seconds to get into position before it will take the photo on its own. Mama, if you stack a few books on the trunk at the foot of the bed––make sure you check to see we’ll all fit in the shot––then you can push that button there and hurry in beside me and it _should_ fit all of us in.”

Jamie had to help Claire with arranging and balancing the camera on the trunk. They had to take turns checking the sight and gauging how much room they each took up on either side of Brianna. The baby fell asleep again during the bustling and arranging and Brianna nearly dozed against the pillows herself before Claire gave her shoulder a light squeeze and moved quickly to tidy her hair. Soon she was blinking against the flash and mumbling her way through the directions for how to reset the little trap she’d arranged in the desk drawer.

Claire ignored her instructions and simply locked the camera away. She turned around again to find Jamie lifting the slumbering baby from Brianna’s exhausted arms and urging her to go ahead and sleep. He rocked the baby as Brianna let herself sink back into the pillows and succumb. Claire finished setting the room back to rights before coming up behind Jamie where he sat in a large chair, the bairn sleeping deeply while Jamie looked at the two photographs in the dimming light of the advancing afternoon.

It was remarkable to see the strength of the resemblance replicated from father to daughter to son. And yet there were subtle differences too. The bairn’s hair was darker than his forebears though that would change with a few more washings and some exposure to the sun. Brianna’s hair had a bit more of a wave to it than Jamie’s, the echo of a curl inherited from Claire. The roundness of Brianna’s cheeks––still fuller from pregnancy––softened the angles of the underlying bones so that her features were closer to those of her newborn son than to her father’s. The body language of mother and daughter betrayed their relationship; both leaned with the same way of holding their shoulders, tilted their head at the same angle.

The second photo of just the baby exhibited more of the personality he was already developing. The wrinkles appearing in his fresh skin gave him an air of being curious and thoughtful while the set of his tiny delicate lips suggested mischief.

“Why do ye think she’s still makin’ these wee photos?” Jamie asked quietly. “When she first came, she wanted something to bring back with her when she left… but she’ll no be leavin’ now––cannae wi’ the bairn and wi’out stones… right?”

Claire took the photos from him and set them aside. She would have to find a safe place to hide them until Brianna woke and could tell them where she’d hidden her small stash of photos.

“I don’t think so,” Claire murmured, her fingers finding their way into Jamie’s hair. He let his head fall back against the chair, closing his eyes and sighing. She reached one hand down and loosened the hold Jamie had of the baby’s feet through the swaddling cloth. Freeing the bare foot, she ran her thumb along the five pea-sized toes. Jamie watched her do it. “I don’t think she’ll go but we can’t be sure, can we? Probably not anytime soon but perhaps someday… But it doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s just another means of recalling as much as you can about a day like this.”

Jamie took his free hand and caught hers, still loosely holding the baby’s foot. His thumb found her silver wedding ring on her right hand and turned it in a circle; it was loose enough to spin easily.

“Aye. Whatever means ye have to help ye remember the best days of yer life, I suppose.” He tilted his head to look up at Claire who bent hers down to meet him in a kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

Claire had whispered the idea to Brianna while Jamie was preoccupied at the side of the path, fiddling with something in his shirt. 

“It’s something you ought to have,” Claire pressed. “I certainly wish now that I could have with Jamie, especially during those years we were apart… Though obviously it was impossible.”

“I remember seeing yours and Daddy’s,” Brianna said quietly. “You looked so happy.”

Claire smiled sadly. “I was.” Then she laughed, “Arguably I was happier then than I would’ve looked in a photo with Jamie on  _ our _ wedding day. I was hungover and miserable and could barely stand except that I had him to lean on… but I wish I had something more tangible from the day, nonetheless. I didn’t realize how important that day would become to me.”

Brianna immediately began digging out the camera when they arrived back at the cabin.

“Aren’t ye supposed to be puttin’ things away?” Roger teased as he bounced Jem gently to help quiet the lad.

“Mama’s going to be back down shortly and I want to have everything ready,” Brianna told him having finally located the camera. 

“Ready for what?” Roger asked moving closer to see as Brianna began checking the apparatus for functionality. “Is that…?” 

Brianna smiled sheepishly. “I know it was a risk bringing it but at the time I thought I’d be going back and I wanted to have something I could take with me when I did.”

Setting the camera down, Brianna pulled out the stash of photos she’d accumulated and held them for Roger to see where Jem couldn’t get his drool-coated fingers on them.

“That’s the first time I saw Lallybroch when I came through,” she narrated. “Before I met Uncle Ian and Aunt Jenny. And this is from the first night I stayed here with my parents.” 

Both their cheeks flushed as they took in the intimate shot of Jamie and Claire seated before the fire. 

“Here,” Brianna shuffled the last few images until Jem’s red, newborn face peered up at Roger. “If I hadn’t brought it with me, we wouldn’t have that.”

Roger nodded but couldn’t bring himself to speak. Jem had quieted and was staring at the photograph with a confused and jealous frown.

“That’s you, my wee man,” Brianna cooed, taking Jem from Roger’s arms in exchange for the small stack of photos. “You’ve grown so much already, haven’t you?”

“And,” Roger began then cleared his throat. “Your mother is coming to photograph… us?”

“She thought we should do a wedding portrait,” Brianna explained. “I mean… it won’t be the same as what we would have back  _ then _ … but I think it’ll be nice to have it all the same.”

Roger grinned. “I agree.” He leaned forward and kissed Brianna’s forehead. She took hold of his collar as he moved to back away and pulled him in for a real kiss as Jem yawned and nuzzled her neck.

Once the baby was down for his nap, Roger helped Brianna to put away their things from the gathering and straightened up the corner of the cabin they thought would make the most suitable backdrop. 

Jamie and Claire arrived together a short time later, Jamie’s hair still wet from a bath. 

“Da why did you––” Brianna started but Jamie raised a hand to cut her off, his face turning red.

“Please… don’t ask,” he said with an embarrassed glance at Claire who pressed her lips together but couldn’t hide the laughter in her eyes. 

“I’ll tell you later,” she whispered to her daughter. “You and Roger go get yourself into position.”

“Shouldn’t ye have flowers,” Roger remarked as Brianna pressed herself to his side.

Claire snorted. “Jamie, why don’t you go––”

Jamie glared at her and sent her laughing. 

“I don’t need flowers,” Brianna insisted, confused. 

“No, ye don’t,” Jamie agreed. “But there is a wee something missing.”

“How would you know?” Claire asked, her laughter finally faded enough for her to speak again. “You’ve never seen a wedding portrait like this.”

“Not one like that, no,” he agreed, bending over Jem’s cradle. “But I have seen wedding portraits before and I canna suppose there’s too much about them that’s changed from now to yer time.” He scooped a groggy Jem up and settled the lad against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the fiery wisps of hair that were beginning to come in thicker. “That’s not what I had in mind though, either.”

He carried Jem to Brianna and settled the babe in her arms. Though Jem pulled his legs up reflexively as his grandfather handed him over, he quickly went back to being a dead weight in her arms. Roger reached over to tuck Jem’s leg up so it rested more comfortably. 

He flushed as he met Brianna’s eye, his hand still on Jem’s foot. She was smiling warmly at him as the flash went off and startled them. 

“Perfect,” Claire declared with a grin as Jamie nodded in agreement, his arm slipping around Claire’s shoulders as she carefully took hold of the photo the machine spat out to see that it was already beginning to develop. “Now how about one more with the two of you looking at the camera?”


End file.
